When Love is Not Madness it is Not Love
by vkdemon
Summary: Without even a blink, Kurt laid out the rules. 1. Never speak of what happens here 2. Kurt calls all of the shots 3. Dave will leave before Kurt wakes.  Kurtofsky futurefic. Very Sad. Written for help japan auction.
1. Stolen Moments

Title: Stolen Moments

Genre: Angst / Romance

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Dave/Kurt, future!fic

Summary: When Love is not madness it is not love.

Without even a blink, Kurt laid out the rules. 1. Never speak of what happens here 2. Kurt calls all of the shots 3. Dave will leave before Kurt wakes.

Love unending for two people. The first is jungle_ride for her prompting of this fic for the help_japan charity auction on livejournal. The next is my faithful and loving beta who I always manage to make cry in apparently a good way traciamc .

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee and make no profit off of this work.

/

His pale skin shown against the dark blue of the bed. It was the same blue every time, the same pale skin. He always slept immediately after their time together, as if the beautiful boy couldn't stand to know in waking what he'd done, who he had done it with. His beautiful blue eyes would close during most of the sinful act, only opening for the briefest second when he reached his peak. Dave Karofsky lived for those moments.

His large callused hand petted down that pale spine. It was a violation of this tentative agreement. But he lived for the stolen moment. He'd watched the boy for what felt like a lifetime. In high-school, he'd watched with terrified eyes the boy would stride through his view with head held high and he tried to scare the boy into changing. Kurt never obeyed. He'd become more lovely, more confident, and had finished high-school and moved away from this horrible town.

In college, Kurt had gone to New York on a scholarship. Dave had dropped out when he fell into a cycle of depression after his parents found his porn and kicked him out of the house. He had no support and had to use the last of his second year student loan on two things. The first was to see Kurt in one of his shows. He knew it would probably the last time he'd ever see the boy. He'd cried in the audience that night. Kurt's performance in his role was beautiful, his acting flawless, his voice like crystal. He was struck by the yawning gap between the man in the spotlight and some closeted fat stalker from his home town. He placed the flowers he'd brought into the wastebasket in the bathroom in the theater before leaving. His little hope of a fantasy that maybe Kurt wasn't doing as well, maybe he wasn't that happy, Dave knew it had been selfish. He never wished any pain on Kurt, but somehow he'd imagined that Kurt would be tired of the limelight and come back to Lima with him. Kurt would make going home bearable.

The last task had been to clean himself up enough to get a job in Lima. He was working as a construction worker and a general handy-man. There wasn't a lot of building going on in the dead end cow-town so most days he was taking odd-jobs, scraping together enough money to pay for rent in his tiny studio apartment and food. He'd saved up that last bit of student loan and put it away. In his dreams he thought of going back to school, maybe getting a teaching credential, sports medicine, become a coach, something other then a Lima Loser.

Nearly 10 years later Dave had been able to get education through the online classes. He was working as a substitute teacher and was doing alright for himself. He still lived in the tiny studio apartment. He'd gotten a cat and the little creature was the light of his life. He'd named it Fancy and the prissy queen demanded his affection and adoration. He lived with her moods and her indifference and she lived with his loud sports watching and his annoying ability to sleep until past her feeding time. At night when the T.V. at the edge of his bed had lapsed into inane news she could curl onto his lap and he would pet and adore her. It was a good enough life. Or at least it had been.

Kurt Hummel waltzed back into Dave's life exactly one week before his 32nd birthday. He was still pale, still beautiful and still wearing bright colors and voluminous scarves. The countertenor had called his handyman number. He stood with his toolbox on the porch of the house he had so often sat across the street in his car watching as a teenager. When Kurt opened the door and ushered him in he was sure the man hadn't recognized him. He'd fixed the plumbing with perfect professional courtesy and been given his money with a swift fair-well.

He'd drunk deeply that night, drowned himself in the pain and woe of his existence being forgettable. He'd loved Kurt from afar for so long that he'd somehow forgotten that he was nothing to Kurt. He was some bully from high school that served no purpose but to improve his acting skills. He wasn't coherent for another 3 days when Fancy had begun mewling at him that she'd run out of her canned food and would simply not eat her hard food without her liver and onion Fancy Feast. Thank God for fussy diva's.

Dave found out through different clients that Kurt was home for good. His father was slowly dying and Kurt had returned to take care of him and take over the shop. He knew Hudson had left years ago for the bright lights of New York tailing behind Rachel. Kurt was alone dealing with an ill and dying father and a grieving step-mother. Thinking of Kurt stuck in this town did something to his chest. That something led him to the funeral to pay his respects to Kurt's father and to offer whatever he could to Kurt. Kurt barely took the card with his number. It was almost a year later when Kurt called.

Dave had been given an address and simple instructions how to get there. It was a run down little motel by the highway. He'd come to the room where Kurt had sat on the bed, legs crossed primly. Without even a blink, Kurt laid out the rules. 1. Never speak of what happens here 2. Kurt calls all of the shots 3. Dave will leave before Kurt wakes. Kurt was kind enough at least to not vocalize his disgust of Dave. His prim and proper voice had simply stated that it didn't mean anything and that since they were the only gay men in this black-hole of a cow-town they might as well use each other for satisfaction of the physical need for sex. Kurt's nose had wrinkled in obvious contempt, as if the very thought of sex was below his station. Dave wanted to laugh, wanted to cry, but in the end he'd gone to his knees and obeyed everything Kurt said.

Kurt was right, Dave commented to himself as he petted the sleeping man. They were using each other. Kurt was using him for sex and he was using Kurt for affection. He stole affection when Kurt slept. He would kiss the man's hair, tenderly kiss each mark he'd left on the still flawless skin. Kurt always demanded he make their actions rough, always demanded he push harder, more, faster, to make it hurt. He loved seeing the small circles that placed his claim on Kurt as much as he hated them. If Kurt would let him he'd show him much more gentle love, he'd be the one under Kurt's body. He stole one last whisper of lips over the skin of Kurt's shoulder before moving away to clean in the impossibly small bathroom.

Dave dressed finally, always taking his time. Any moment he could steal he would take. He'd never even tried to remain there as Kurt woke. He'd barely gotten this much of the other man. He'd take the stolen touches and illusion of love rather then lose Kurt. As the door closed, he never saw the tears falling over the face of the man who had never been asleep to begin with.


	2. The Dreams We Leave Behind

Title: The Dreams We Leave Behind

Genre: Angst / Romance

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Dave/Kurt, future!fic

Summary:Every time he met with Dave he did this. Kurt went to the mirror.

/

The rumble of a 1998 Chevy with slight structural damage to it's tail pipe rumbled off into the distance. Kurt Hummel, sole owner of Hummel Tire and Lube, lay curled as if asleep. He never slept these nights. The touch and low ache of the actions of the night never allowed his sleep. Slowly his lean form rose. He slowly made his way, bare and covered in the sweat of he and the man who had driven off, dry and tacky against his pale skin. He dressed, not bothering to fix himself as he made his way to the Mercury Milan Hybrid he'd saved from the dump. Most times he would just drive with his radio blasting, not caring for the hateful glances of the Lima city residents for a man in a headscarf blasting Lady Gaga. He usually could care less.

These evenings he placed on dark glasses and a hoodie. He felt like an illicit wife having a jaded affair on her rich but absent husband. Of course if he was on an episode of "Desperate Housewives" he would have a much prettier and younger man to sleep with. As he pulled into his house he placed the hoodie into the laundry basket, unwilling to look at it.

Every time he met with Dave he did this. Kurt went to the mirror. He never did move out of the basement, never had desired to. He was trapped in Lima, he might as well keep what he loved near to him. His mirror touched both ceiling and floor and spanned half of the east wall. The east wall was the smallest of walls and was usually where his video camera rested on it's tripod.

He began the ritual, slowly taking off each piece of clothing that had been touched by the man, slowly revealing his body. The first he noticed were always the marks on his neck. They were blatantly sexual, horribly claiming. The next were the circles that pressed a small red chain of circles along his collar like a painted string of pearls a 50's TV mother would wear. They were the closest he would ever get to a semblance of domesticity.

He traced his long thin hand down to his chest. His pale pink nipples were softly perked in the slight cool of the basement. The delicate skin around them was darkened to nearly purple from the ardor of Karofsky's mouth. He always spent such time there, commanding Kurt's body to respond. His hand strayed down to the most painful of bruises. He hissed as the marks on his thighs clearly outlined the thick fingers. He placed his hands on his hips, mirroring the marks. The darkened flesh was easily seen around his thin delicate digits. It always struck him at this moment how much power lay in Karofsky's massive arms. He could break Kurt's thin body in half at the slightest inclination. He took in a breath, tracing his hand down his pelvis, where another line of red circles dusted the bone and stomach. Kurt resisted the urge to suck in the slight pudge he saw in his thin body. He was 35, there was going to be a small bit of sag, not that the object of his affair ever seemed to mind. He always murmured into Kurt's skin at his stomach the words that Kurt didn't allow him to say. Kurt always pretended not to hear them.

Lovely, perfect, beautiful, mine, I love you, thank you: all those words he whispered like prayers against Kurt's pale skin. Kurt's hand petted over the skin, conjuring the words forward, letting the echoes fill the room. He was adored, loved. He wrapped his left hand around his semi-erect manhood. Dave's hands were rough from his life, larger then Kurt's and so warm. He would always touch Kurt's manhood like it was some exotic fragile creature. He mimicked those actions. In their time together Kurt would bat his hands away, demand he get in already, demand their interaction not change beyond what Kurt could handle. But here in Kurt's house, here where he was safe he could imagine Dave's hands staying there, staying gentle.

Kurt's free hand petted up to his shoulder. He could still feel the gentle heat of Dave's final kiss. It was gentle and sweet, like a promise. The countertenor traced each of the circular bruises, using the heat of abused skin to conjure more gentle presses of Dave's kiss in place of the marks. A small gasp from Kurt's mouth and Dave would gasp deeply against the skin of Kurt's collarbone. He would then press gentle kisses to the rosebud of each of Kurt's nipples. Each mark was replaced with gentleness of a man who loved him, who would stay with him, cherish him. Kurt's strangled cry was lost in the huge basement turned living space. His mirror obscured with his seed. Kurt slowly opened his eyes, tears streaking down his face.

Every time he was with Dave this happened. Dave would only show his gentleness when he thought Kurt was asleep. Kurt sighed, stepping into the shower, determined to rid himself of the sick want for the man who had tormented him in high school.

Kurt had been a star, well somewhat. He'd gone to New York as the glimmering spot of fashion in Ohio to just another pretty twink countertenor. He'd worked 3 jobs just to keep up his tuition. He'd landed a few roles before his big break. He'd landed the role of Mary Sunshine in Chicago and had rocked it to it's core. And after his sudden success... nothing. Audition after audition not even a chorus part was granted. He'd gotten desperate... disgustingly so. He was so dedicated to being a star that he'd knelt in a dark storage room of the theater looking at his last chance, an older directer who had a taste for young pale men whose voices could pass as women. As he stared at his chance for the future he decided he would only be a star on HIS terms. Somewhere in New York there was an assault charge and a small claims action against him for the state in which his Prada heels had left the old bastard. All is fair on Broadway.

He'd come home finally to another heart attack of his father. Somehow in Kurt's mind, Burt would always last forever as his wonderful strong dad. As the heart failed and he spent years nursing him gently through his death, he knew that all people break, all people fall and all people leave you. He hadn't the will to leave again. He couldn't blame Carole for leaving. Her second love was dead and her son had settled in New York with a first child on the way. He had promised himself he would fly out to see them when the child was a bit bigger, but every time Christmas rolled around he would get a card of the happy perfect family with mother father and Baby and decided the shop hadn't made enough to afford the ticket. He spent the holiday alone, drinking. What chance did Kurt Hummel, the only fag in Ohio, have for a family? He'd never even realized he'd wanted one until he'd lost his.

Drinking... never his best of states. It was how this situation with Karofsky had happened. He'd knocked over his little Rolodex of business cards and had picked them all up. The last one was that of David Karofsky, handyman. The man had come to fix a leaking pipe years ago. He hadn't made a single comment and if Kurt remembered properly, he'd fueled a frustrated week of very naughty dreams of handymen and what they could help unplug. So on impulse he contacted his old tormentor.

He's set out ground rules because it was a necessary sating of his loneliness, that was all. He was drunk and horny and needed a fuck. The very concept of bringing a cheap fuck into the home he'd shared with his father disgusted him so he put the meeting in it's proper place, a rat trap motel where no one cared who you were and who you fucked. For a few heart-wrenching minutes he'd been sure the other man would not come.

Once he stood before Kurt he couldn't help but notice the time that had worn lines of smiles into the corners of Dave's eyes and around his mouth. They were faint, but still there. He'd always imagined Karofsky would transform into a hideous monster by 30. Look... still not balding. One point for the ex-footballer. He also noticed with annoyance that though he'd also gained a bit of pudge, the man obviously kept himself in shape. He pushed that out of his mind, this was not about attraction. This was about getting what he needed no matter how sick it was. He was doing Karofsky a favor to even touch him. Briefly as he set down his rules he wondered if the man would simply walk away. Sure Kurt had make up on to hide his own wrinkles and flaws, but he wasn't 16 anymore. If Karofsky walked out... he never finished that thought.

The sex had been... a necessary release. He couldn't stand the small tenderness that the other man offered. He couldn't stand that. He didn't want to have tenderness or caring. He didn't want to know anything about Karofsky other then he was gay and could fill his need. He kept the only defense he had left, his imperious ice princess demeanor.

Slowly against his will he started to learn things. For example that Karofsky had a cat. He'd mumbled about needing to pick up her Fancy Feast as he dressed going out. His mind had been filled with images of a long haired Persian twining itself around the huge man's lap. It softened the image of Karofsky down to his first name, David.

He then learned that David was out. He'd received a call right before they'd had sex one night from his mother. The look of desolation on his face had been nearly enough to break Kurt's walls. 'Yes I'm still gay. I'm not rebelling! I'm thirty fucking four mom!' He'd gone still as David listened to the woman on the other line. 'No... I never expected anything from you... good to know the paper's official!' Kurt had been about to reach out when David was suddenly on him. He'd buried himself in Kurt, tears spilling over his lower-back as they fell from the large man behind him. He'd allowed Dave to hold him for a few moments after he'd finished. He'd no longer thought of him as David after that day, he'd become Dave. A nickname, achingly intimate in it's simplicity. As the roar of the old chevy drove off, Kurt's voice had spoken into the room. "Sleep well Dave."

Something had to give. He'd hoped Dave would cross the barrier, push something, refuse to see him again, ask him out, pull out a ring... something. Another two years and he gave up on Dave ever growing a spine. So instead he had kisses he pretended to be asleep for, touches he'd conjured up after his skin was cold and Dave was long gone. Dave was a fucking fool.

He raged at the man as he worked in his father's shop the next week. Where was his sense of romance? He should be making a grand gesture for Kurt's affection. He should drive up in that old Chevy, take Kurt out of the shop... and of course Kurt would have just happened to dress fashionably that day... He'd bring him to the grassy hill and in the sky in smoke would be 'Marry Me Kurt'. He's turn to Dave with his eyes shining with delicate almost tears and Dave would be on his knee. He'd hold up a ring and would slip it on Kurt's finger. They would be married in June and I'd be the most enviable wedding Ohio had ever seen. Dave would look so handsome in his dove gray tux with a white cravat. Kurt would wear a long white asymmetrical tailcoat with a tasteful veil. They would live in bliss... happy ever after...

Kurt sighed as he closed the shop a week after his latest night with Dave. He was an idiot. No his life was not a rom-com, it was much closer to a drama, one of those depressing pieces that made you appreciate your life and want to go call your parents and remind them how much you loved them before it was too late. As the time rolled around for him to call Dave, he left the message with the date... He needed to change his life now. He put on his best outfit, a romantically whimsical combination of flowing schemes and pale blues that made his eyes pop. One chance Dave Karofsky.. this is it.


	3. Last Request

Title: Last Request

Genre: Angst / Romance

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Dave/Kurt, future!fic

Summary: One chance Dave Karofsky.. this is it.

/

Dave was checked his image in the mirror before leaving his house. He'd made sure his black button-up was properly pressed and his dress-pants were aligned. It was Date Night. Funny thing to call his affair of convenience with Kurt Hummel, but it was that kind of dry humor that kept him from finding a gun... his humor and Fancy, who seemed to be sure that he definitely needed her brand of love by rubbing her tawny side over his ankle. He sighed, And rolled up her fur with the little sticky pad.

"Fancy stop it. I love you Princess, but I have my queen to serve tonight." He petted her once before placing out her treat bowl.

Once more he climbed into his Chevy, his mind moving too fast. He shouldn't do this. How many years.. 2.. 3? He'd been seeing Kurt once every three or so months for years to have passionate meaningless to Kurt sex. He had dressed up, taken a shower and worried over his appearance just to go be the man's walking dildo. Pathetic did not begin to describe it.

Despite his mind's protests that this was slowly killing him, he walked into the motel room. Dave wondered if whatever sick God was in heaven was laughing at him. Kurt looked like a dream. He knew how beautiful the man was, but somehow he never looked more radiant, covered in blue, his turtleneck up to his chin, his skin covered. Dave couldn't understand his fascination with Kurt, but the more he wore, the greater his want to take it off of the man. He closed and locked the door behind him, beginning to unbutton his shirt as usual. No words... they weren't allowed.

"You dress up every time don't you?"

Kurt's voice broke the silence of the room. Dave's huge hands stilled, a wild panic filling his face. What had he done wrong? Kurt never talked before they touched, never! He looked at his shirt, then to the fashionista. Kurt had never shown any interest in what he'd worn before. His tongue darted out over his suddenly dry lips.

"I try to look... nice."

"For me?"

"Yes."

Kurt watched as Dave's eyes pleaded with him. Please let that be the right answer. Kurt didn't want this messiness. He didn't want to be vulnerable, Dave was vulnerable enough for both of them.

"One request."

"What?"

"Listen to me when I speak to you!" It was too easy to slip back into ice queen. Ice queens don't suffer from broken hearts. "You have one request. I will grant whatever you ask. Make it good."

One chance. Dave prayed for this. Just once chance, one moment to make it all right. He'd practiced words he would use to bring Kurt around to loving him, to prove he was good enough. He could remember none of them. He had a golden ticket, one request to make of Kurt Hummel that he would not turn down. Love... He couldn't ask for love. Love isn't something you can request, nor is it something anyone can grant. Love takes time and patience.

He could ask for a date... but that seemed like the same thing. He can't ask Kurt for a second chance. A date was just this same question prolonged over three courses and an awkward good night kiss. They were both 36 and hardly the age to delve back into the teen years.

Marry me? But he had no ring and this was a cheap motel. Kurt would never agree to something like that here. He would have to buy tickets to France and court Kurt with fancy wine and dining. He's ask him with the Hope Diamond because that is what the man deserved. No. He couldn't bind the fashionista into a marriage with a teacher in Lima. He deserved a man who could whisk him away to Hollywood or Broadway where he could be worshiped by hundreds of thousands.

Have my baby? Okay now his mind was just torturing him... But damn would he love to have a family with Kurt, to adopt a child who needed them and watch Kurt teach that babe how to play tea party and fix car. He'd teach their child sports and buy clothing to dress them up. It would be beautiful.

He looked to Kurt and couldn't help the small smile at the delicate designer boot covered foot tapping out an irritated rhythm. Kurt never did like to wait. Dave chuckled and suddenly knew his request.

"Come home with me?" At the cocked head and confusion he spoke again, his tongue darting out over his lips. "I mean... let me show you me? This is probably the most I've ever said to you in the last 20 years and you probably still see me as some scared little boy who hurt you in high-school. Let me show you who I am now. I'm out and I have an apartment. I'm a teacher and have a membership to the gym. Please Kurt...I want to take you to meet me... to meet Fancy... I mean.. Hey don't look at me like that! Fancy's the name of my cat."

"Oh.. I thought you were naming body parts again." Kurt offered with a twist of a grin and a raised eyebrow. "You named your cat after me?"

"Yeah... She's a demanding prissy princess, but I love her more than the world..." Dave prayed Kurt would understand he meant both the cat and Kurt.

"I'll need to pack an overnight bag."

Dave's smile shattered the last of his icy palace walls. Kurt walked forward to kiss Dave Karofsky' lips for the second time in his life and it was beautiful.


End file.
